Of Frodo and Sam
by MLynnBloom
Summary: A four chapter fiction of Frodo and Sam from childhood to Sam's own children. COMPLETED
1. Song From a Carefree Mind

Title: Of Frodo and Sam

Rating: PG -to be safe- ;)

Genre: General

Summary: A four chapter fiction of Frodo and Sam from childhood to Sam's own children.

Copyrights and Stuff: I hope you know I do not own LOTR. Or Frodo or Sam *sniff*… the poem in here, Errantry, is definitely not mine. It comes from Tolkien and one of my favorite books : The Adventures of Tom Bombadil. 

Author's Note: I wanted to complete this short story before the third installment of Lord of the Rings officially comes out. It will only be four chapters, in (sort of) two parts: Frodo before the Ring takes him, and of course, after it starts to corrupt his innocence. So, I might not update my other stories as often in the process. Thanks for actually reading and clicking on this story! This chapter is very childlike and has the most hobbity-cuteness in the whole story. There won't be too much of it later, so enjoy and thanks!!

Chapter: Song From a Carefree Mind

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Shire Reckoning: Shire, Hobbiton: 2990 T.A.

The dwelling of the Gamgee's lay peacefully quiet under the early sun and cloudless sky which bore it. Sam Gamgee packed the dark soil around the new blossoms, even though the gardening work was done. He kept his hands on the cool earth where he liked them best, and examining the garden of the blooming petals. The thin stems tilted slightly to the sky, resembling small fallen stars. 

Up the road, Sam heard the sound of feet and he looked towards the low gate where the miller's son stood. He had never been one of Sam's better friends, but he figured that he should treat hobbit with the same respect, even if he received none.

"Hullo, Ted," Sam said and he stood up to greet up. He brushed his hands on his ashen slacks and Ted slung his bag of flour off his shoulder.

"A lad's back will stay bent if 'tis always hunched over, I reckon, Sam." Ted Sandyman said smugly and he leaned on the fence. "Still digging in the dirt, eh? I thought your gardnin' work was at that Mad Baggins's smial."

"It is, and that's where I'm headin'," Sam said, "But we have to tend our own gardens once in a while." Ted looked over the Gamgee's hole and up on top of the Hill where the green door of Bag End shone emerald. He snickered to himself and nodded his head towards the hill. 

"Anyhow, they are a strange folk with their tales of the sea and magic. Such stories can poison one's mind, ya see? That Frodo Baggins was all ready queer, being half Brandybuck and all, but now that he's been livin' with crazy ol' Bilbo…" Ted said and clicked his tongue, "And as for you, Sam Gamgee, you'll be just as odd if you let them rot your mind with stories of fairies and trolls."

"First of all, it's Elves, Mr. Sandyman," Sam corrected him and Ted chuckled and rolled his eyes, "And second of all, Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo are respectful hobbits, if I ever met one, and I find each and everyone of their tales true, and there's no doubt about it." Sam said and he opened the gate. Ted threw the bag of flour on his back again and walked with Sam.

"All I'm sayin' is trouble will come your way if you concern yourself with 'em. The whole Shire knows it." Ted Sandyman said and he towards a different road, "Farewell".

"Farewell," Sam said blandly and muttered stubbornly as he turned up Bag End, "Then I guess I'll have to fight trouble back, if that's what I got to do to see Mr. Bilbo and Frodo."

The grass on the hill swayed in the slight wind and out on the soft ground outside the smial was Frodo Baggins, humming to himself; he fiddled with long blades of grass and flowers and pond-reeds.

"Hullo, Mr. Frodo. Which side of the garden do you want me to start on today, sir?" Sam said and he picked up his gardening tools.

Frodo sat silently and weaved his flowers until he looked up, "How about you take the day off, Sam."

"I haven't even started, Mr. Frodo. And---and the garden?" Sam asked worried and Frodo smiled.

"I think the flowers will be alright for one day without your tending, Sam," He said and he braided the grass and flowers together.

Sam sat cross-legged next to Frodo and twirled a grass blade with concern on his brow. "Something wrong, Sam?" Frodo asked and Sam shrugged shyly.

"It's just…what people say, Mr. Frodo. Rumors spread faster than the flu, and I don't like 'em one bit, especially when they concerns, well…my friends, " Sam said quietly.

"Sandyman?" Frodo asked and when Sam nodded sheepishly, he laughed full-heartily, "Aye, Ted and many others think me and dear Bilbo are as loony as the moon, if that's how you want to say it." Sam bit his lip hard and pondered.

"And that doesn't bother you? Rumors and false things?" He asked and Frodo shook his hair out of his eyes.

"No," He said simply, "To speak the truth, I like to exaggerate our 'madness'. It wasn't too long ago when cousin Lotho and Ted approached me and questioned me and Bilbo's strangeness, or that's what they said. And they says, 'I believe those talks of Elves and such are making you lose your mind'. So I decided to make them think and I says, 'Maybe I'm not losing my mind, maybe it's my mind losin' me.

"Well, that didn't settle too well with them and they stood there wondering if it was a riddle or some kind of insult," Frodo continued and he chuckled, "Ah, well, let 'em say what they've said. There's no stoppin' it now." Frodo said and grinned. Then he took his ring of grass, flower, and water plant and set it upon his head.

"What's that lyin' on your head, Mr. Frodo?" Sam asked and Frodo stood up. He loved Frodo, his only friend who let his imagination run wild with him. His cheeks were flushed and the leaves and flowers dangled from his curly head. The white sun glowed behind him; he was tall and fair in front of Sam, and to his eyes, he looked like an Eldar prince of times before.

"Why, 'tis a crown! I image an elvish-like crown…I can make you one if you'd like," Frodo offered and Sam nodded eagerly. "Need I ask if you would rather like a warrior or an Elf crown, Sam?" Frodo asked and he smiled, knowing Sam's love for the Elder kindred.

From Sam's choice of blossoms, even though Sam sulked for picking the flowers from the garden, Frodo made him an Elvish crown of white and blue pale flowers and set it on his blonde head. Lastly, Frodo found two long branches and he waved his over his head calling it a 'Sickle Wand' which he said would be their elvish magic.

"Come now, Sam," Frodo said proudly and he thrust his wand up, "This is no place for Elves!" He laughed loud and jumped over the gate of Bag End and ran down to an empty field. Sam admired his knowledge of Elves and he well-mannerly opened the gate (and closed it) and ran after Frodo.

They giggled as they ran into the empty field. The meadow was of a rich green with dandelions and buttercups in-twined in the grass. The birds chirped and sang, and a white rabbit hopped across the field to its burrow. Frodo skipped around a thin, lone tree and sang soft-spoken from the pureness and innocence from his heart:

**__**

There was a merry passenger,

a messenger, a mariner:

he built a glided gondola

to wander in, and had in her…

He sang the song while he ran, never losing breath, and Sam followed hand in hand with him, humming the tune. And when Frodo came to his favourite part, his clear voice came out strong and sweet:

**__**

In ship of leaves and gossamer

**__**

With blossom for a canopy,

He sat and sang, and furnished up

And burnished up his paroply!

Sam laughed freely with his as he stumbled and skipped through the long grass. He waved his wand and held his crown on top of his head. He did not care if Ted had turned around on his heels and saw him or any other hobbit who thought anything wrongly towards him and his best friend.

And hobbits did see and stare at the two: one with bright eyes, a soft voice, and heir of famous Bilbo Baggins; another with brown hands, a smiling face, and son of a gardener.

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	2. Of Simpler Times

-Of Frodo and Sam-

A/N: This goes mostly with the movie in this chapter, otherwise I try to follow the books. You'll probably notice songs in every chapter (hehe), but I love music; it makes the world go round....and this chapter LOL. There is a bit of dialogue from the movie, so you'll probably spot it when you get there. Other than that, LOTR belongs to Tolkien and New Line, this little story plot comes from yours truly. ;)

PS: Excuse my last mistake in my 1st chapter! By _Shire Reckoning_ , the year is 1390, not 2990...oops!!!

Chapter Two: Of Simpler Times

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Shire Reckoning: Borders of the Shire, September (Halimath) the 24th, 1418 T.A.

Clear and splendid did the moon rest upon the quivering trees that undisturbed night. It was a cloudless sky, dotted with what appeared like glittering grains of sand. The chirping of crickets sounded of chimes and gave no comfort to Sam Gamgee. Thrice he backtracked and doubted his own steps and finally he slumped in defeat.

"It's said at last, Mr. Frodo. The trail is lost and there is no way in the Shire we'll find it again in this dark a-night," Samwise muttered crossly and he scanned the ground for any signs of a trail. The ground was moist and carpeted with thick grass and pebbles. Nowhere did he see a dry path under his feet.

Frodo came up to his side and patted his shoulder, "It's quite all right, Sam. I think it is time for us to turn in and get a night's sleep anyway." He said and he came up to a fallen trunk of a thick oak tree. He rested his walking stick against it and Sam plodded next to him and relieved his shoulders from the heavy pack he had been carrying. His back was strong and he was used to carrying heavy loads, but he waited for the day in Bree when his master, himself, and Gandalf would rest in their chairs with mugs of ale. 

In no time, Sam had gathered up pieces of dry and dead wood and kindled a gentle fire. They gathered round the burning fire and lit their pipes. The pleasure of the pipes eased their spirits and they smoked in silence.

The trees swayed and trembled in the light wind and Frodo laid down on the ground, his chest face-up to the open sky. Sam joined him, with troubled thoughts of what tomorrow would bring flooding his mind. He turned to his master, his eyes content and pure under the light of the crescent moon. His cheeks were flushed pink and lines of worry and stress had not yet disturbed his blessed face. His pipe was placed between his teeth and he looked up to the heavens and blew the hair off his brow lightheartedly.

Sam smiled and a curious question crossed his mind, "What are you thinking about, Mr. Frodo?" 

Frodo faced him for a second and turned back to the tops of the trees, "I was thinking of our old Gandalf and even Bilbo, where ever he has gone, but I suppose I'm thinking of…of the Ring. At first, I found it plain silly to be voyaging far from home just to rid it," He confessed and Sam nodded, yearning for home, "And yes, it does seem quite silly. Just a mere trinket to the unknowing eye…yet, it is much more than that, Sam. 'Tis more powerful then we will ever know, and much more evil too. I can feel its power sometimes; it has tried to direct to places we have passed by and even at times it seems to weigh a little heavier in my pocket. No, dear Sam, it is much more than a pretty ring," He said and his voice was stern, but subtle. 

Samwise wore a bothered look in his eyes as he thought of his great evil, lying in the presence of them now. He thought of the battles that had most likely fought over the Ring, many of the men and other creatures perishing for that one power. Then his hobbit-sense took over once more and he envisioned simple things, like food and good pipe-weed.

"And what are you thinking of, Sam?" Frodo asked. His laughing voice was strange in the dark woods and Sam listened to the silence after his voice had faded. 

He studied the glowing moon and sighed, "Elves, Mr. Frodo. Wood-elves…I can't get them out of my mind since we saw them passing by last after-noon." And Frodo chuckled at Sam's young mind and interest in the Elves.

"Yes, they are gracious beings, aren't they?" He whispered and he blew a smoke ring in the air. "Gracious…," he repeated and he sighed, "Soon all the frail and elder creatures of Middle-Earth will be passing through the woods and to the sea. It's beginning to end, Sam; the world they lived on is fading."

He rolled onto his side. "Now, now. Enough of this talk of change," Frodo said mostly to himself, "Sam, I'm afraid I cannot say up any longer without my eyes drooping! Goodnight until morning." He shifted on his shoulder, his back to the glowing embers, and let out a long breath.

"See you in the mornin', Mr. Frodo," Sam said and he moved over to his abandoned pack. He took out two thick blankets and draped one over Frodo's shoulders. No wind nor footsteps stirred the still night, and all was silent to the hobbits in the middle of the woods. Sam moved once more on his back, but this time he found more uneasiness. He attempted to move again without making any noise, but his feet crunched loudly on the fallen leaves. The remains of the fire crackled and Sam groaned, wanting sleep to come over him.

"Everywhere I lie there's a dirty great root stickin' into my back," He said to himself, assuming that his master was far off, dreaming, in his comfort. He lifted up to move over to a different spot when Frodo's hushed voice came to his ears.

"Just shut your eyes…and imagine you're back in your own bed---with a soft mattress and a lovely feather pillow," He whispered soothingly, his eyes too weary to open to look at Sam.

Sam laid back down as he cleared his mind. _Ok, Sam Gamgee, think of home. Think of your pillow lying on your soft bed…, _he thought. He lay flat and closed his eyes tight, imagining the ground softening under his very skin. He opened his eyes and let out an aggravated sigh as the ground bit and poked at his back, "It's not working, Mr. Frodo…I'm never going to be able to sleep out 'ere." He cuddled his blanket and glanced at his open pack. He grabbed a dry loaf of bread and ate the bread leisurely, trying to forget about the roots and rocks in his back.

Frodo smiled good-hearted and he spoke softly, "Me neither, Sam." His back was sore from the painfully firm ground but thoughts of Bag End made the irritation on his back easier. His breath slowed down and his cheek brushed the cool earth. If finding a restful sleep every night was the top of their worries for the rest of their quest, Frodo knew that he might wind up in a story like dear Bilbo. One with plenty adventure and thrills, all the while coming home in the end to a safe fire in the hearth. He heard Sam finish his bread and try to grapple with thoughts of sleep once more, when Frodo thought of his Bilbo and the Shire. The wind stilled and Frodo tranquil and rich voice whispered through the trees as he sang from his thoughts…

__

Passing days and simple ways

And listening for your return;

Fading stars and forgotten wars,

Memories of you, 'tis what I yearn.

They will come, time does pass,

When dreams take over my pretty lass;

Take me in and bring me home,

Woods of white is where I'll roam.

Frodo let his heart at ease and finally, slumber took him away and into an easy sleep. Sam listened and wiped his eyes before any tears flowed down his cheeks. And for the rest of the night, he mouthed the song in his secure sleep.


	3. Song From a Suffering Traveler

Chapter Three: Song From a Suffering Traveler

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Shire Reckoning: Depths of Mordor, March (Rethe) 1419 T.A.

The sun was rising steadily when Meriadoc strained his eyes to the window in the Houses of Healing, but to Sam and his master, the sun was swallowed by never-ending shadow and gloom. Pleasant sounds and memories were lost in the depths of their foreboding minds and all they smelled or saw in the Land of Shadow reminded them of their continuous struggle and dread.

Sam's eyes itched with dryness and whenever he closed them they stung horribly. He walked ahead but kept his eyes low to the ground, for the sight of Orodruin weighted his steps. The vast and ominous land was ridden with cliffs of rock and ancient stone, each one sharp and ridged. The earth under their sore feet was of biting stones and sand and frequently would the dead thorn bushes come out to catch and scratch their heels. Cracks in the parched ground would expel smoke and fumes; Sam's only comfort in the emptiness that throbbed in him was the company of his Master, slowly deteriorating before him.

He was struggling behind him, his back bent and his feet dragging. His thin face was bone-white and his bright eyes were dull and sad. The Ring that bore and ate away at his mind pulled at his craned neck; it tugged down vertically to the ground under his orc armor, all the while calling to its forger. Frodo lifted his hand and stroked the chain of the ring absentmindedly. Sam saw this and grimaced upon it , but said nothing.

A slight slope came to their way and Sam stepped up the rocks with his pack thumping on his back. Frodo gathered his strength and trudged up after him, but the Ring dragged and he looked up to Barad-dû r, where the Eye glowed and blazed, drawing the Ring to Him. His knees collapsed and he slid down and fell, his hands breaking his fall on the rocks. A raspy shrill moan came from his throat and Sam stumbled down the mount alarmed. Frodo twisted painfully on his back for a moment and fumbled for the Ring. The chain was no longer around his neck and Frodo cried, "The Ring! It's lost!"

Sam came down the slope and threw his pack down. Frodo crawled on his bleeding hands and dug at the ground. He searched madly until a glimmer of gold caught his eye and he grasped for it, breathing heavily. Sam's lip quivered and he blinked his tears away as he watched his Mr. Frodo crawl like a pitiful wretch. He couldn't help him, the ring had already taken his master and all he could do was hope he could come back someday. Then Frodo whimpered and Sam came to his side as Frodo fell on his back of his frail and shaking body. 

"Come on, Mr. Frodo. We're finished our day for now," Sam said gently, not knowing whether if it was night or morning. He dragged his pack and carried his master under a cliff of rock which roofed them and hid their sight from the Dark Tower. Frodo held his hands out, side by side, and whispered, "My hands...they burn." 

His callused and blistering hands were stabbed with bits of stone and dust and his cuts were of black dirt and clotted blood. Sad held his hands on his palms and tears of pain ran down Frodo's dusty face and Sam saw him for the first time in months. He seemed trapped and scared, just wanting to escape back home. His hands trembled in pain and he slumped in defeat. Sam gave a slight but shaky smile to comfort him, something that had not been seen in Mordor for many a time.

Sam took out their water they had collected just a day before and poured it over his bleeding hands. Red water dripped down and was swallowed up into the cursed land. Then, Sam took his own shirt and wiped away the dirt and blood; when the cuts were cleaned, he took out the pouch of dried fruit and meat Faramir had left for them and untied it. There was barely any food left and Sam took the cloth that wrapped around the scraps and tore it into strips. He wrapped and tied Frodo's hands and kissed his palms tenderly. "It's done, Mr. Frodo," Sam cooed, "The burning is gone."

No wind blew nor bird sang and the sky was nevertheless thick of smoke and dark clouds. Frodo sat still for many minutes as the blood seeped through the bandages. Then he wavered and collapsed and Sam caught his thin body. He laid Frodo's head on his lap and gave him water, which ran down his jaw. Sam took little of the meat and fruit for himself, but Frodo rejected his share. They still had two wafers of _lembas_ left and Sam broke off a piece for Frodo. 

"Come now, Master, try to eat the waybread," Sam urged and placed the _lembas_ in his mouth. Frodo chewed and attempted to swallow when he sputtered and choked. Sam sat him up straight and Frodo coughed the waybread up. His tongue was parched and his throat was almost swollen shut and he whispered for the water. Sam helped him drink the water and after Frodo drank it dry, Sam made mental plans in his head to find the water source again for tomorrow.

Sam wearily took his pack and gathered everything back up and into his bag. His joints ached and his hands and knees were cramped. He sighed tiresomely and Frodo slumped over on his side and tried to ease into slumber. He switched sides, mumbled, and sat up shivering while Sam leaned against the cold stone wall. After Sam wrapped his elven cloak tight around him, he brought Frodo next to him and he rest Frodo's head on his shoulder. "Right by me, Mr. Frodo. Sam will stay up while you sleep. Think of your own bed with a soft mattress and a feather pillow and you'll be dreamin' soon," Sam said gently and Frodo laid on Sam's side.

"...sounds of something long ago..." Frodo murmured slowly and Sam turned to him worryingly, "It was, Mr. Frodo. You said it y'self. The day you sang me a song. Such a song it was. I suppose you don't remember..." Sam said and his voice trailed off in the end. Frodo lay silent and he said lastly, very quiet, "No. No, I don't remember...Sing to me, Sam. Sing me to sleep." Sam held Frodo with his supporting arm and he rest his head back, his neck craned back up towards the starless sky, singing mournfully:

__

Onto places we do not know,

through clear sunbeams and streams;

under places Sun does not show:

vivid dreams, sewn with seams.

Something I am bound to forget.

Tongues of fire lick the sky;

endless dark is where we lie.

Heavy is your bless'd head. 

The silver stars start to die;

the faded moon rests there dead.

Our crying tears seep

into endless sleep;

Crawling into stone

to our very bone, 

and love is why I'm here:

to help thee I hold dear.

Even now your Sam does not know,

beyond the Ring and stings, 

what paths to take or where to go,

but now I try to sing:

Sweet melodies of lilac trees

of home and promised rain;

than where we be on our weak knees,

from agony and pain.

Of this will you forget?

"There's your song, Master. Save if we forget the happy times, I'll sing to you again," Sam whispered and he stroked Frodo's head until he heard him slip into a troubled sleep. Then Sam wept silent tears bitterly in despair into the deep of the still night. Hope was lost in his eyes.

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A/N: The last chapter should be up soon, before Wednesday! Yes! Very soon! 


	4. The Lullaby

Chapter Four: The Lullaby

Here's the last chapter to my short story. I had it finished a few days ago, but with the excitement of the ROTK movie (seen it two times in fact lol) I haven't been on to update! A little shorter than the rest, but I hope it does this justice. Thank you so much!

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Shire Reckoning: The Shire, Bag End: 29th of September, 1422 F.A.

__

A gray moon twinkled and a familiar voice whispered softly... 

"I was thinking of our old Gandalf and even Bilbo, where ever he has gone, but I suppose I'm thinking of…of the Ring. At first, I found it plain silly to be voyaging far from home just to rid it, and yes, it does seem quite silly. Just a mere trinket to the unknowing eye…yet, it is much more than that, Sam. 'Tis more powerful then we will ever know, and much more evil too. I can feel its power sometimes; it has tried to direct to places we have passed by and even at times it seems to weigh a little heavier in my pocket. No, dear Sam, it is much more than a pretty ring..." The voice faded but became clearer than before...

"And what are you thinking of, Sam?" 

There was his master, laughing eyes, blissful mind and melodious voice that rang in his ears...

"Sam, love?" There was his lovely Rosie, bent over to Sam's face in his chair. He straightened up and gave a slight smile, and took the cup of tea in her hand.

"Must have dozed off..." Sam mumbled and he kissed her. Rosie kissed him back and left to the kitchen and Sam forlornly looked forward to the blazing fire in the hearth. Haunting tunes from the wind chimes outside faded away in the breeze. By his feet was his sweet daughter, Elanor, playing with her wooden coloured blocks without a care in the world. She hummed an unknown tune to herself and every time her tower of blocks fell, she squealed and clapped her hands and looked up at her Da. He bent down to kiss her curly head and she grabbed for her Da's hand. Then he turned to the fire and closed his eyes as a sharp pang of memory hit his heart.

Rosie came to his side and bent down, "Sam," she said with worry, "What has been troubling you? I have seen it in your eyes all day. Is something wrong?" She asked and he looked up to her.

"No, nothing is wrong. And how can it be wrong with a beautiful wife and child, and one on the way." Sam said and he held her in his eyes, "I couldn't ask for anything else, because there is nothing I need." Then he paused and looked down to Elanor.

"She's beautiful and so smart, my girl. And I wouldn't doubt that this one," he touched Rose's stomach, "will be just as wonderful." Rosie smiled but he stroked his shoulder.

"Yes, but I can still sense your distress, the sadness in your eyes. I think I understand, and if I can't, I will try. "She said sweetly and she stared at him.

His face grimaced desolately, "One year today, Rosie, was the last day I saw him. I saw him sail into the mist, with white gulls singing their good-byes. I know now why he had to leave, but missing him is not what hurts me. It is knowing that he will never see our children, and they will never see him." 

Then he held her hands and whispered, "I have you to share my happiness with, my feelings and thoughts. My love, you're all I've ever wanted, and that's what keeps me happy everyday. Just the thought of him not here feels empty today." Sam looked to the fire again and Rosie touched his face, "Sam, I love you, and although I cannot bring Frodo back, I will always stay by you until whatever end." She assured and suddenly his heart lifted as he cast the pain away.

He picked up Elanor and set her on his lap. Her golden hair tumbled down the side of her face and she smiled. Rosie sat down by Sam's feet and he took Elanor's little hands. "Elanor, Elanor...do you want to hear a tale of your Daddy and his master, Frodo with the Nine Fingers? How many fingers do you have?" Sam asked and Elanor counted out every finger under she came to nine. Her little face screwed up and showed all her fingers, "Ten, Dada!" Sam and Rosie laughed and he held his hands out, "Yes, ten! My girl is so smart."

He bounced her on his lap and then held her. Rosie rest her head on his knee and he spoke softly, "Now, me and your 'Uncle' Frodo had lots of fun and danger on our journey. Full of elves and kings and even tiny golden flowers named after you! We tracked through snow and rain, sunshine and shadows..." Sam said and Elanor curled up to him, her eyes drooping. Rosie kept her laugh down low and whispered, "'Might as well be talking to yourself, Sam." 

He caressed Elanor's fair head and held her protectively, "So I am." He looked out the window to the curtain of stars and whispered, "I am no longer split in two, Master Frodo..." and sang clearly.

__

Passing days and simple ways

And listening for your return;

Fading stars and forgotten wars,

Memories of you, 'tis what I yearn.

They will come, time does pass,

When dreams take over my pretty lass;

Take me in and bring me home,

Woods of white is where I'll roam.


End file.
